


your future was me

by princessrorora



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: F/M, i don't really know what to classify it as lol, spy/jewel heist/sneaky au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 20:12:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessrorora/pseuds/princessrorora
Summary: prompts: glenya + who gets jealous easiest, who made the first move, who collects something unusual, and who has the most embarrassing taste in music?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is an oddball modern spy/heist/jewel thieves/mischief making society/whatever au. nana has vlad, dmitry, anya and gleb work for her and steal back her stolen family artifacts, basically. lols.

“Y’know, if you keep making that face, it’ll get stuck like that.”

Anya blinked, looking away from the debonair figure across the banquet hall as Dmitry’s voice filled her earpiece. She looked around the bustling banquet hall, finding him in the same place he had been for the past ten minutes nursing a glass of expensive champagne.

“If looks could kill!” He snorted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and grinning at her before resuming his scan of the room.

“Get away from the food tables, Dima.” Anya snapped. “We have a job to do that doesn’t include taking advantage of the hors d'oeuvres and open bar.”

“Perks of the job, my dear.” Vlad chimed in.

“Yeah, and it’s awfully hypocritical of you to say that, Miss ‘I put away three cream puffs in one go and have six stuffed away in my purse’.” Dmitry retorted.

“Everything good on your end?” Vlad asked, in a gentle tone that she knew was not directed toward Dmitry and his sass.

“Mmhm.” Anya hummed, glancing down at her own glass of champagne. “What about you?”

“I’ve almost cracked the code. It shouldn’t be more than another ten minutes.” He promised. “Still in the clear, Dima?”

Dmitry hummed. “Yep.”

“The sooner we get out of here, the better.” She said offhandedly.

Anya’s grandmother had chosen a dress for her that was cinched a bit too tight around the waist and her shoes were killing her. All Anya wanted was to go home and put her sweats on and scrub her face free of the heavy layers of makeup. She wanted to curl up on the couch with a bucket of popcorn and watch a crappy romantic comedy to make up for this ugly green feeling that was spreading all over her.

“You still got eyes on Vaganov?” Dmitry asked. “Or is that a stupid question?”

Anya narrowed her eyes, lip curling as she looked across the room to glare at one of her partners. “Hey, it was _your idea_. I could’ve been the charming one tonight and swept the lady off her feet.”

“He’s got a point.” Vlad said reluctantly.

“I’m not bothered.” Anya said quickly. “I’m just tired. And this is taking too long.”

“Few more minutes, dear.” Vlad promised.

Anya fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest and pout like a baby. She was a _Romanov_ , for goodness sakes. She was regal, dignified, the daughter of lost royalty with a name that weighed heavily and blue blood running through her veins. She was better than this. She did _not_ get jealous.

Not even when beautiful, tall, leggy brunette heiress slash model Edith Humphries was fawning over her boyfriend.

But that wasn’t true at all, was it? She got far too jealous a little too often. ‘You can dish it out but you certainly can’t take it’, Vlad had told her once. And sometimes that was true. Especially where a certain someone was involved. 

And, well, was he even her boyfriend? They hadn’t had much of a chance to discuss that amidst outrunning bullets and sneaking into parties and gathering intel for her grandmother. There’d been plenty of chances to play the part though. She flushed to reminisce about the times they’d been crammed together in a closet or forced to play the married couple so Dmitry and Vlad could run about behind the scenes. They’d shared one too many kisses on duty and, well, a few off duty, to be anything but platonic anymore. The lines were blurred with this work they did, and sometimes it was great but in a situation like this? Not so much.

And _she’d known_ this would happen. Amidst the careful planning, they had all agreed that Vlad would be better at cracking the codes while Dmitry stood watch and assisting when needed. That left Anya watching Gleb’s back as he distracted the target.

Aka, the beautiful brunette who currently had her hands all over her not-boyfriend.

Anya herself had interacted with Edith for a while when they’d first arrived at the party, playing the part of a star struck fan, despite the model knowing full well _who Anya was_. Anya wondered if Edith was just playing dumb when gabbing all about the jewels her daddy had gotten her, how she couldn’t travel without them, how priceless they were.

Anya knew _just_ how priceless, given the fact that they had been stolen from her family, her grandmother, to be specific, and now, they were there to get them back. Anya chalked it up to one too many glass of fine champagne and lack of brain cells on the Edith’s part, because it didn’t take too much digging and false niceties for the general location of the jewels to be revealed. She had easily disentangled herself from the brunette and had relayed the information to Dmitry and Vlad.

“I’m surprised Vaganov hasn’t self combusted yet.” Dmitry muttered. “How long you gonna let this go on, Anya? I’m rather surprised you’ve let her drag her hands all over your boyfriend this long.”

Anya fought the urge to turn her earpiece off. She was jealous of Gleb’s lack of one tonight. At least he wouldn’t hear all of Dmitry’s nonsense. “I’m set to go rescue him the minute Vlad says he’s got the piece.” She reminded him with a grumble. “Hopefully soon, Vlad?” Those perfect manicured hands were tugging on Gleb’s hand, brunette curls bouncing as Edith tilted her head invitingly towards the exit.

“I got it.” Vlad said triumphantly. “Dima, you can come assist me now.”

“Thank you.” Anya murmured to both of them, her heart settling at the thought of reuniting her grandmother with a piece of their missing past. 

Anya watched as Gleb’s dark eyes grew wide as Edith murmured something to him, her smile turning all shades of dark and seductive. His face grew bright red, and Anya might have laughed had he not suddenly looked so anxious the minute Edith looked away to take another champagne glass off a passing server’s tray. His eyes moved in a quick motion about the room, which to anyone else might’ve seemed appraising. But Anya read it loud and clear. _Save me._

Anya emptied her glass and set it on the table behind her. She straightened her dress and started across the room towards the pair. It didn’t take long for her reach them, and as she came closer, an exuberant smile spread across her painted lips. “Gleb, darling!” Anya squealed, reaching for the sleeve of his suit jacket.

Edith and Gleb spun around at the sharp exclaimation. Gleb nearly sagged in relief at the sight of Anya, but the brunette looked about two seconds away from digging her nails into his hand and dragging him off, regardless of who Anya or her family was.

Anya curled her hands around Gleb’s arm, rising onto her tiptoes to press her lips onto his cheek. The scent of his aftershave had become familiar and welcoming to her during all these missions, but tonight, she caught a whiff of something much too fruity and strong intermingled with the rustic scent.

Drawing her focus back, Anya pursed her lips at him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, darling. The sitter called, said that we needed to get home and check up on the twins. Puke everywhere, apparently. You know how they can get after too much dessert.”

“They’ve got your sweet tooth.” Gleb said quickly, his dark eyes still wide but his demeanor as cool as a cucumber. He floundered and flustered around her when they were off duty, but when there was a role to play, he was a rather good actor. “We might have to find someone else to watch the girls next time we go out, darling.

Anya giggled, a little louder than her usual laughter, and nodded happily. “I’ve been telling you that, haven’t I?” She finally looked over at Edith, who was eyeing the two of them curiously. “Oh, so sorry to interrupt. Family emergency, you see.”

“You’re married?” She asked pointedly, glancing between them. “And…you have kids?”

Anya made a silly shushing sound and pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone. My Nana paid the big bucks to keep it all hush hush. Body doubles and fake names and all that jazz came into play.” She hid another giggle behind her hand. “Such is this life, you know?”

An easy laugh barked past Gleb’s lips as he wrapped an arm around Anya’s waist. She instantly sank into his side in a motion that felt as easy as breathing, and pressed her hand to his chest.

“Going on three years now.” Gleb said easily, dragging his thumb over her waist and pulling her closer.

Before Edith could even comment on their lack of wedding rings, Anya beat her to the punch. “Three years and he _still_ forgets to wear his ring before we go out.” Anya huffed, rolling her eyes in a gesture that said, _‘men, am I right?’_

“You’re just as bad.” He retorted teasingly, lifting a finger to tap her on the nose.

Anya laughed. “Yes, yes. Well if _you_ would have just listened to be when I told you we aren’t ring people-“

“You’re right, Mrs. Vaganov, as always.” He crooned, and Anya’s heart did a little melty flip flop. His eyes were like liquid chocolate, and the way Mrs. Vaganov had rolled off his tongue so easily, how he’d smiled at her just so.

 _Pull yourself together_ , she scolded herself, breaking eye contact to look towards the Edith.

“Well, uh, your secret is safe with me.” Edith said, smiling thinly, her dark eyes roving over Gleb’s figure once more. “Excuse me.” 

Gleb didn’t let Anya go once they were alone, and so she didn’t either, finding she was far too content to be in the warm circle of his arms.

“I hope someone wasn’t jealous.” Gleb hummed, his thumb resuming that slow circle against her waist.

“Of course not.” She said firmly, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew it hardly sounded convincing.

“No need to be.” He said evenly, meeting her gaze once more, his eyes holding more than what he was saying with his lips. Then he chuckled and shrugged, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ve never had a thing for brunettes, you know.”

Anya blushed, a soft giggle escaping her. She was about to retort that brunettes were more _her_ type, given his dark features, but Dmitry’s voice cut through and broke the moment.

“Twins, huh? Vaganov, you sly dog!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somewhat of a prequel to chapter one.

“Please, God, _do me a solid_ ; please don’t make us have to do an emergency water evac.” Anya prayed under her breath, eyes snapping shut as the plane hit another patch of turbulence.

Anya hated flying. Like, _really_ , really hated flying. The convenience of it was great, sure, and if she was going to be front and center for all these trips her Nana would be sending them on, then she was going to have to get used to it. But, oh, how she hated it. Especially the long return flight to Paris over the Atlantic. And all the bouncing, wonderful turbulence that came with it.

She could still hear her Nana’s voice, always so warm and gentle and sweet with her last living granddaughter, turn to something closer to icy cold stone as she told Anya to simply _get over_ her fear of flying. The fear was illogical. It didn’t stem from her family’s deaths, nor any experience with a faulty aircraft Anya had lived through.

It was just a stupid, human fear. It was her overactive imagination playing tricks on her, convincing her that the plane would go plummeting down to the ocean below. She knew it was stupid. And that was the worst part. She knew fearing flying was ridiculous. Especially given the state of the art technology on her grandmother’s private jet and the professional pilots that always got them safely from point A to point B.

But she couldn’t help it. Everything about it was out of her control. She was just expected to sit in her seat and trust that the giant metal can flying through the sky would reach its destination and not suddenly go down in a blaze of glory over the Atlantic because of a little wind.

New York had been fine. A little crowded and too full of tourists, but it had been an experience. They’d walked through Central Park eating cheap, awfully delicious slices of greasy pizza and hot dogs. They’d gone to Rockefeller Center and seen the huge Christmas tree and ice skated and saw a few Broadway shows and crashed a New Years Eve Party and stole a painting that had been done by her father as a gift to her mother. All in all, it was a good trip. Aside from the bullets.

The sound of gunshots still gave her panic attacks and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to enjoy a fire ever again, but those she could deal with. Those she could compartmentalize. Flying? Forget it. Flying gave her a nauseous, churning stomach and white knuckle fear. Add some turbulence to that and it was a crap show.

She’d rather be more afraid of rollercoasters, clowns, dogs, anything but the one thing she would be expected to do in order to get these jobs done.

Anya huffed out a deep breath, eyes focused on the water landing instructions for the tenth time as she used the safety manual as a fan. She was hot. And she knew it was all because of her coat and boots that she’d refused to shuck off upon boarding. Her main goal had been to just climb aboard and sit down and buckle herself in, but she hadn’t thought things through, hadn’t thought about how long the flight back to Paris really was and how realistically she’d have to move eventually at some point 

Her coat was heavy, and had been perfect for the wintery air of New York. But for a private jet with state of the art heating and air systems and fuzzy blankets and slippers that her Nana had monogrammed for them all? Hardly appropriate at all.

Anya swallowed thickly, her stomach rolling as the plane hit a tiny patch of turbulence. She really needed to contemplate how she was going to last the rest of the flight. They’d only just started out, maybe had been in the air for two hours at most, and she was already on the verge of a freak out. The only way she had made it through the first flight to New York was because it was a red eye and her Nana had given her some sleeping pills beforehand. But those were in her suitcase, which was in the back of the plane, and which would require getting up to go get.

Which. Wasn’t happening.

“You okay?” A voice asked, breaking the silence. Her eyes snapped up to find Gleb Vaganov standing near her seat. She hadn’t even noticed him get up and make his approach. 

“I’m _fine_.” She said through her teeth, closing her eyes and silently willing him to go away. The last thing she needed was for him to gawk over her or pity her. “Peachy, actually.” Anya squeezed the manual tighter. “I just _hate_ …” She stiffened and made a sharp noise of surprise as the plane rumbled.

“Heights? Flying? Yeah, I noticed.”

Anya opened her eyes and scowled up at him. A catty, childish response was on the tip of her tongue, but it went away as another wave of nausea rolled over her.

“Uh. You’re shaking.” He said dumbly. She flinched as he bent towards her, the scent of his musk reaching her senses and distracting her for a moment. It was pleasant, but right at this moment it only made her head spin worse than it already was. Gleb pried the safety manual out of her grasp and pressed a paper bag into her fingers. “Anya. Hey.”

“I’m _fine_.” She said again, drinking in a deep breath through her nose. Anya didn’t need to look at him to know he was giving her an incredulous look, she just felt it.

“Are you sure?”

 _No, no I’m not sure at all, you big dummy._ She thought with another scowl. Anya felt _awful_ , and clearly she wasn’t as good of an actress as she thought she was. It was no doubt written all over her face how close she was to either freaking out or blowing chunks. Her gaze dropped to the bag in her hand, her cheeks growing hot, and it was definitely not from the coat. She looked up at him, nearly ready to tell him to leave her alone, but she couldn’t find the strength to. Not when he was still looking at her with such worry.

Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

Gleb Vaganov was…a funny sort of man. But he had a sharp mind and calm sort of strength that helped get the jobs they did done. He was always alert and on top of things when necessary, pacing about with a tense pull in his shoulders as if he was constantly at the ready to, she didn’t know, _jump_.

Anya winced. She _so_ didn’t want to think about jumping right now.

He shifted above her, absently adjusting the air control above her head. Cold air brushed across her face, and she couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that escaped her.

Still, her lips remained pulled into a scowl. He was annoyingly tall, and from this vantage point, seemed even taller. He also looked annoyingly too good for how stressed and nauseated she felt. Gleb was clearly well at ease even with being so high up off the ground, above the ocean. He’d shucked off his coat the minute they stepped aboard, had done a scan of the entire plane while Dmitry and Vlad had ooed and awed over the refreshments. He’d stretched himself across one of the luxury recliner seats and buckled in loosely and hadn’t looked up from his book when the plane took off.

Gleb hardly seemed affected by the movement of another roll of turbulence, even though he was the one standing. And. Being annoyingly tall.

“Stop towering over me, Gleb.” She snapped.

He frowned, and slouched a little, and if she had been in a better mood, she might have laughed at that. “I’m…I’m sorry. You just…you don’t seem well.” Gleb raked a hand through his hair. “Not that you don’t _look_ …that is to say…uh…” He winced, and she couldn’t help but notice a red tint spreading across his stubbly cheeks. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Sorry. I’ll…leave you be.”

Guilt wormed its way into her heart, which made Anya start forward as he turned away. She reached her hand out and grabbed his sleeve. “Wait.” Her head spun from the quick motion, and the paper bag he had handed her fell to the floor. Gleb went very still, and his dark eyes turned to liquid chocolate as he looked back at her.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Gleb.” She winced. “Flying just…it really _really_ isn’t my thing. So. It’s okay. You can, uh, stay.” She gestured to the seat next to her, her heart beginning to pound for an entirely different reason than plane anxiety.

Gleb glanced at the empty seat beside her, and then over his shoulder briefly, as though fully expecting this to be some sort of prank that Vlad and Dmitry were in on. Both men were fast asleep in their respective seats, tucked in fuzzy blankets and monogrammed slippers.

His gaze returned to her face, and she flushed, releasing his sleeve once she realized she was still holding onto him. She returned her hands to her lap, fiddling with the belt on her coat as he hesitated.

“I don’t wish to bother you.” He said carefully.

“You’re not.” She wanted to die right then and there. _Typical_ , she thought angrily, _typical Anastasia, being a total brat to someone showing her kindness._ “You’re not bothering me, Gleb. I’m sorry.” She gestured toward the seat again. “Sit with me, if you’d like. I could use the distraction of your company.”

The corners of his lips lifted into the smallest smile she’d ever seen, before he situated himself in the chair beside her, his arm brushing hers on the plush armrest. They sit quietly for a moment, aside from Anya’s sharp breaths anytime there was even the slightest bounce. Flying over the ocean _sucked._

“Maybe some club soda would help.” He offered after a moment. “Or ginger ale?” Humming under his breath, he folded his hands over his middle. “Of course, tea always calms me down.”

“Me too.” She closed her eyes again. “It’s too hot for tea, though.”

“Removing some layers might help, Anya.” He laughed in amusement. Her cheeks grew hot, but a giggle slipped out nonetheless, despite how hard she was trying to scowl at him.

“I don’t think I like your suggestive tone, Gleb. What would my Nana say to hear you speaking so outlandishly to _me_?” She teased, and the nausea seemed to lessen just from the simple act of pulling his chain.

Gleb rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling, and if only for a moment, it made her forget the sights outside her window. “She’d probably say, ‘about time someone matched my granddaughter in wit.’”

Anya smiled. “You overestimate how much my Nana likes you, Gleb. And your wit.”

“Not by much. It’s certainly more than Dmitry, wouldn’t you say?” He nudged her with his elbow. Anya couldn’t tell if it was a playful gesture or just an accident. Regardless, she found herself liking it.

“You’ve got me there.” She giggled.

The plane bounced again, rougher this time,, killing the mood instantly. She winced, her stomach rolling with another bout of nausea. Her fingers clenched tightly around the belt of her coat, and she wished she hadn’t dropped the paper bag he’d handed her, because if she barfed right now…

Anya shook her head at herself. She would not barf. She would _not_ barf. Especially not in front of _him._

She glanced over at the seat beside her, only to find it empty, and she winced, lifting her head a fraction to peer around the space. Dmitry and Vlad were in their respective seats, sleep masks spread across their eyes and blankets tugged up to their chins. Both were snoring like bears.

Gleb appeared from near the front of the plane, something blue tossed over one shoulder, a glass of something bubbly in one hand and his phone and a tangle of earbuds in the other. He placed the glass in her cup holder, and then tossed his phone and earbuds on his seat before reaching his hands out to her.

“C’mon, Anya.” He hummed, his fingers brushing her middle as he unbuckled her belt.

Warning bells rang out in her head, and she reached down and grabbed at his hands in an effort to stop him. _“Gleb.”_

 _“Anya.”_ He chuckled. “Two minutes out of your belt won’t kill you, okay? I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen.” He squeezed her fingers, his smile warm and gentle. “You’ve gotta calm down or else it’s going to be a longer flight than it already is. For all of us.”

He was right, she knew he was. And he was currently the only one bothering to help her. Anya drank in another deep breath, nodding fervently at him. “Okay.”

Gleb gave her fingers another squeeze, and her heart did a stutter as she realized his hands were still wrapped around hers. She looked down just as he pulled them away. For a brief moment, she felt a strange sort of longing, her hands suddenly feeling too empty and cold without his touch.

Anya flushed, nearly scoffing for even entertaining such a ridiculous notion.

Yet…it wasn’t so ridiculous, was it? If she was truly honest with herself, Anya liked him. A lot. A lot more than she probably should. It had only been about a year since the four of them were joined together under her grandmother’s wing. But a bond had formed in that short amount of time between all of them. And much to her surprise and initial chagrin, between her and Gleb.

It wasn’t really too much of a shock. Not if she was being truly honest with herself. She’d been wary around him initially, of course, given his family background and the new leaf he had seemed to be turning over in working for her grandmother. But over time, as they’d been thrown together in situations where they had to learn to trust each other, they’d gotten closer. Without her ever really realizing it was even happening.

Gleb Vaganov was…just a funny sort of man. He was serious and stoic when it came to the jobs set before them. Dmitry teased him for being far too serious when it came to handling their missions. But Gleb felt duty bound to them, to protect them and get the job done.

But during the few moments of off time, he was someone else entirely. He enjoyed card games with Vlad and making up lame jokes and drinking Dmitry under the table. He talked about the Russian ballet with Anya’s grandmother over dinners when they were all under one roof. And if they decided to walk about in the gardens, he was the first to offer up his arm for the elder woman to hold onto.

And even at the beginning, he was always attentive to _her_. Anya. He saw her for who she was, not for what blue blood ran through her veins or the weight of her family name. He saw her as an equal. But just the same, he looked out for her and protected her like no one ever had before.

And just in little ways. _Like this_. Dmitry and Vlad cared about her, of course, but not like this. Neither of them had checked up on her after she’d sunk into her seat and anxiously curled up in a ball. Not that she could blame them or anything. And besides, she hadn’t really expected them, or Gleb for that matter, to come worrying over her.

She’d been on her own for so long before all of this. She was just used to dealing with things on her own and getting by on her own.

Gleb carefully unbuttoned her coat and brushed the belt aside. She blinked out of her thoughts and found him studying her face before returning to the task at hand. He helped her out of her coat, giving her another glance as if to ask, _‘everything alright?’_

Anya bit down on her lower lip and gave a short nod, glancing down as he began to unlace her boots. She straightened her t-shirt and leggings, the lack of her coat making it much easier to breathe. “I’m sorry, Gleb. I don’t mean to be a basketcase.”

“It’s okay.” Gleb set her boots aside and stood up to lay her coat over the back of another seat. “You’re pretty formidable, you know? It’s not…surprising that there’s something that scares you. Just like the rest of us. And that’s okay.”

His eyes crinkled when he smiled at her. Anya’s heart skipped a beat from the sight, and her insides went a little mushy, and she knew this time it wasn’t because of the flying or the turbulence.

She _liked_ him. She liked his company, probably more than she should have, even though she knew they were supposed to be purely professional. But she couldn’t very well keep it professional while playing this game that her life had become. And it was hard on his end too, she could see it. He was torn from whatever his life had been before all just to stand by her and her grandmother’s side and aide them in the variety of outings and missions they were called upon to do. He didn’t get to have a normal life, and for some reason, that jarred her to think of more than it did when considering Dmitry or Vlad.

Probably because she knew Dmitry and Vlad. Vlad had Lily, and Dmitry had no one else but her and Vlad. They’d had no one else but each other for so long, and now, being together on a daily basis like this was hardly a sacrifice.

But Gleb? She wasn’t so sure.

There was still so much she didn’t know about him, despite having known him for over a year. And she found herself longing to know more, to understand why he fought for her, why he looked out for her. Because at this point, she knew it wasn’t just because of the job. She knew it had to be more.

But. Neither of them ever crossed that fine line to discover more. They simply skirted around friendship, and anything deeper than that was simply…unspoken? Never going to happen? Anya didn’t know.

“Thank you, Gleb.” She murmured, her fingertips gently touching his wrist. He seemed to falter at her touch, but only for a split second before he tugged the blue fabric off his shoulder.

“Of course, Anya. I only speak the truth.” He chuckled. “Here. Much comfier and lighter than a winter’s coat.”

Their fingers brushed as she took the fabric, and he looked away anxiously as she unfolded it. It was the ‘I heart NY’ sweatshirt that she’d made them all get as a matching souvenir. They’d taken tourist-y photos in front of landmarks, the gaudy, bright colors they’d each selected washing them out. They had looked ridiculous, and Gleb had groaned and made straight faced, pissed off expressions at the camera. She’d made the best one her phone background, one where he’d cracked a smile while he, Vlad and Dmitry had hoisted her up in the air at the last second.

If the context was taken away from the photo, it just looked like a bunch of friends on a trip together. Not…well…the thievery and double crossing that was actually happening.

Anya hummed, noting the size and blue color of it. He’d clearly brought her his own, and not the gaudy hot pink one she’d selected for herself. She grinned at him, but he continued to avoid her gaze as he settled in the seat beside her.

“You can buckle again, if you’d like.” He said once she tugged the cheap cotton over her head. “Although you really are quite safe to go without it until we land.”

Straightening the baggy sweatshirt, Anya reached down and pointedly clicked the seatbelt securely over her lap, giving the strap a good tug to ensure its security. Gleb rolled his eyes and they shared a laugh.

“I brought you some ginger ale to help settle your stomach.” His lips thinned as he settled back down beside her. “The tea selection was pretty pathetic.”

“I guess we’ll have to make do.” She hummed, lifting the glass he’d brought her and taking a slow sip of the bubbly drink. “You really ought to talk to Nana about that. Having such a poor tea selection is just utterly… _abominable_. How on earth are we supposed to live like this?”

Gleb chuckled. “I’m not sure she would take my complaints too seriously. But if you said something…”

Anya giggled, despite the roll of nausea still present in her stomach. “You can just admit you’re scared of my Nana, Gleb. I won’t tell.”

He balked at the idea, rolling his eyes at her as he grabbed his earbuds and began to untangle them. “I’m only thinking of you, Anya. You and _your_ tea needs.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” She stretched her legs out, toeing her own pair of monogrammed slippers onto her feet. “I bet you collect fancy schmancy teas. Perhaps you could keep us well stocked instead of _bothering_ my Nana with such a task.”

“I suppose I could take that task on.” He snickered, the easygoing sound melting away into a grumble as he struggled to untangle the cords in his hands. “Though I don’t collect tea.”

“That’s a shock.” She said, reaching over and taking his earbuds. Her smaller fingers worked easily against the tangle, and once she was done she handed them back over. “Do you collect anything?”

“Not really.” Gleb fished his phone out of his pocket. “What about you?”

Anya flushed. “Yeah, but…it’s stupid.”

Gleb glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I doubt that.”

She wanted to tell him that he thought too highly of her, but she held her tongue. “I collect postcards.”

“Postcards?” He smiled, but it wasn’t a mocking smile. “That’s hardly stupid.”

“Thanks.” She leaned her elbow against her knee, chin propped against her palm. “I’ve just…been enough places now that I want to make sure I _remember_ everywhere I’ve been.” A wistful smile appeared on her lips. “I always write down what happened at each place on the back of them. That way when I’m old and losing my marbles, I’ll be able to look back and think, wow, I had some adventures, huh?”

Gleb’s smile grew wider, and Anya felt her stomach do a little flip at the sight. “Adventures. Yes. Quite an accurate description of our escapades.” He chuckled. “I don’t suppose you’re putting too many details of our missions? No need for anyone to find them and trace certain missions back to us, hm?”

“Of course not.” She smirked. “But I can’t exactly leave out the juicy stuff, now, can I?”

“I suppose not.” He chuckled again, and returned to scanning through his phone. She picked up the cup of ginger ale he’d brought, her stomach soothing considerably after a few sips of the bubbling drink. But somehow, Anya knew it wasn’t the soda doing that to her.

It was Gleb.

She returned the cup to the cupholder and leaned her chin in her hand again, studying his profile as he tapped through his phone. Gleb lifted his dark eyes to meet hers once more, and she couldn’t help but smile, her face growing hot. Before either of them could say anything, another lurch of turbulence shook the plane, bigger this time.

Anya squeezed her eyes shut and her hands scrambled for purchase. Strong fingers laced through hers, and she held on tightly without thinking twice. The plane shuddered and creaked, and it felt awful, like this was _it_ , this was the _end._ But then it eased up as quickly as it had begun, the pilot apologizing lowly over the loudspeaker.

Anya slowly opened her eyes, breathing heavily like she’d just run a marathon. Gleb gave her hand a squeeze, and she stared down at their linked hands in surprise. “You’re all right, Anya. Breathe”

She did, a big gulp of air that she released slowly. Her stomach rolled again, and she glanced awkwardly at the barf bag, almost wanting to hold it just for reassurance that it was readily available. Three fingers touched her cheek, and she shivered as Gleb turned her face toward him. His dark eyes scanned her face, his lips growing thin from what she was sure was a stupidly terrified expression on her face.

“Breathe.” He murmured, his voice crackling just slightly as he dropped his hand from her cheek. Anya nodded, doing her best to breathe in and out slowly, her gaze locked onto his own. This time around it was easier to recover, and she knew it was all because of him.

“W-what are you doing?” She asked, gesturing lamely toward his phone and earbuds, ignoring the butterflies that were mingling with the nausea in her stomach.

Gleb furrowed his eyebrows together in concern, but looked down at his phone anyways. “Oh. Uh.” He mumbled, faltering over the screen at the sight of her hand still within his own.

“You don’t have to.” She said quickly as he began to ease his hand away from her. Her fingers tightened around his. Probably a little too desperately. “I mean…I’d rather you didn’t. Let go, that is.”

Gleb seemed thunderstruck, and his lips trembled as if he was fighting off a smile. But he just nodded and gave her fingers a squeeze before glancing back at his phone.

“I…er…” He cleared his throat. “I was just looking up some Mozart for you. Music tends to help on long flights.”

Anya nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I usually do that. It does help. But. My phone is dead. Otherwise…well.” She rolled her eyes at her fragmented sentences. His thumb dragged over the back of her hand lazily as he looked around in his phone.

She was struck with the idea that if they were, well, a _thing, this_ might happen more often. More long flights were certainly in their future. It was a given her grandmother would send them on more trips until every old stolen relic was restored to them.

And wouldn’t it be nice to have someone there for her, to sit beside her and hold her hand and help her through her fear of flying and heights? Someone to bring her ginger ale and play music for her and give her his sweater and hold her hand and just…think of her?

Anya bit on her lip. She wanted him to do something about all of this. Whatever it was between them. She wanted him to ask her to dinner or to coffee or just, do something together that didn’t involve running from people with guns or stealing back her family’s priceless stolen artifacts.

He’d asked her to tea before, right at the beginning. But she’d been so untrusting and anxious about him, that she’d denied him before he could even finish his sentence. No wonder he’d never asked again. No wonder.

She leaned her head back against the seat, staring at their hands and wondering what sort of life they might have if one of them would just _move_. And at the rate they were at, it would have to be her, wouldn’t it?

Nana wouldn’t be thrilled, and neither would Dmitry for that matter, but…eventually they might warm up to the idea of them together. Vlad and Lily had already been teasing the two of them, especially after things didn’t end up working out between her and Dmitry like they’d thought it would. At least they’d be happy about it.

And she would be too, she realized.

“I hope you’re not silently judging my music tastes.” He chortled, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Anya blinked, hoping she wasn’t wearing too dopey of an expression. “Well. I wasn’t. But now I think I might have to.” Snickering, she reached out and snatched his phone out of his hand.

“Anya!” He exclaimed, trying to reach for his phone.

“You brought this on yourself, Vaganov.” She teased, holding their joined hands up in the air as a barrier as she leaned away from him to scroll through his music library.

Anya could feel his agitation as he sunk back against his seat with a grumble. She can’t help but leave him in suspense and sit in silence as she perused through his music library. So far, there wasn’t anything too terribly embarrassing. If anything, he had a unique music style. She didn’t know why he was so embarrassed.

Still, she couldn’t help but mess with him a little. Her face twisted a few times, humming lowly and pointedly lingering over a few artists and eyeing him out of the corner of her eye. His hand is shaking a bit, squeezing at hers reflexively. It’s pretty adorable. 

“Anya…” He drawled. “Be kind.”

“I’m _always_ kind.”

He snorted. “Sure you are.”

“Hey!” She nudged him with her elbow. “I _was_ about to say how you have pretty good taste. And that it seems on brand for you. But if you’re going to be mean to me…”

“On…brand?” He drew his eyebrows together in concern.

“Yes. It’s apparently what the kids say, didn’t you know?” She hummed again. “But, ah, I never would have taken you for a Panic! At the Disco fan.”

“Well.” He smiled at that and lowered his voice. “Dmitry and I had a rare bonding moment and he introduced me to them. The vocals are pretty impressive.”

Anya agreed, but the only thing that stood out in his explanation was ‘bonding moment with Dmitry’. “Aw. How _sweet_.”

Gleb rolled his eyes, his cheeks coloring. “Mozart, Anya.”

“He’s not going anywhere. I’m not done prying, Gleb.” She teased, her voice dying out as she reached the last artist on the list. “No… _no way_.”

“What?” Gleb frowned and leaned toward her, glancing down at his phone. Then he groaned and threw his head back, cursing extensively under his breath in the mother tongue.

“Gleb!” She exclaimed, shaking his hand. “You like Taylor Swift! _You_ like Taylor Swift!”

“Keep it down!” Gleb exclaimed, and she pressed her face into his shoulder to stifle the sound of her laughter.

“Oh my gosh. This is the best day ever.” She laughed. “Now _that_ is a surprise.”

“Anya.” He tried to scold, but his voice came out in a chuckle. “If you tell _anyone_ , I swear-“

“This is front page news, Gleb. The world must know! We have to wake up the boys. We have to have a Taylor Swift dance party. _Now._ ” She teased, lifting her head to grin up at him.

“I hate you.” He snickered, but his voice was warm and his face was so soft and open and oh, how he was smiling at her made her want to melt into a puddle.

Anya tucked his sweater up to her chin and giggled. “No you don’t.”

“No, no I don’t.” Gleb relented, leaning his head back against his seat. Anya felt his forehead brush hers, and it sent a shockwave through her as she realized just how close they were. Her legs had somehow curled up into the seat, her body was angled closer to him, and their hands were still joined.

Anya grinned stupidly at him, and he stared at her a moment longer before reaching down to pick up one of the earbuds. He gently brushed her hair behind her ear and pressed the earbud into her ear. It was an odd gesture, but sweet, and her stomach still fluttered happily all the same.

“ _All Too Well_ is a work of art. We can agree on that, _yes_?” He hummed, sticking the second one in his ear.

“Obviously.” She said absentmindedly, her arm slipping through his on the armrest. He stiffened, a cough that sounded a lot like her name slipping past his lips. 

There was another roll of turbulence, but Anya hardly felt it as she dropped her head onto his shoulder, the calming sound of Taylor Swift’s voice pouring through his earbuds. Gleb’s musk invaded her senses, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of him.

“You just keep surprising me.” She mumbled.

“I could say the same thing about you, y’know.” He chuckled, dragging his thumb over the back of her hand again.

“Yeah, I’m just full of surprises.” She teased, opening her eyes and staring at their linked fingers. “So, uh, here’s one more.” Anya took a deep breath, her heart pounding and her stomach flip flopping once more. “When we get back to Paris…do you want to get a cup of coffee sometime?”

Gleb went still beside her, and for a long moment, she wondered if he was still breathing. A giggle escaped her, and just as she was about to lift her head to make sure he was okay, he stammered out, “L-like a date?”

“Yes.” She said without hesitation. “Like a date. I’m asking you on a date. If, ah, you want.”

“I do.” He said quickly. “I mean. Yes. Anya. That would be really…great.”

“Good.” She closed her eyes once more, her heart pounding like a drum against her ribs. She couldn’t stop the grin from splitting her face apart, another giggle escaping her and muffling into his shoulder. “Perhaps Nana can get us Taylor Swift concert tickets.”

Gleb lifted her hand, and she shivered at the feel of his lips brushing across her knuckles. “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, princess.”


End file.
